


A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

by theSapphireSky



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-The Final Problem, like a ridiculous amount of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 09:16:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16194578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theSapphireSky/pseuds/theSapphireSky
Summary: After a visit to see Mummy and Daddy Holmes, Molly leaves with some blackmail material.





	A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

_After a visit to see Mummy and Daddy Holmes, Molly leaves with some blackmail material._

“Oh, he was just the cutest baby!” Molly cooed as she leaned over to look at the photo album.

Mrs Holmes laughed and turned the page. “He took after his father, all smiles and chubby cheeks. But those cheekbones made themselves known shortly.”

Molly covered her mouth when she saw the photo of Sherlock as a toddler, gaped-tooth and down to his nappy, clearly having plotted a nap-escape and gotten caught, his lips pursed in a very familiar pout.

“Found it!”

They both looked up as Mr Holmes walked in, holding another album triumphantly. Mrs Holmes eagerly took it and giggled like a woman half her age.

“This is our backup,” she said in a stage-whisper to Molly. “Sherlock burned the original in a rather dramatic pyrotechnic display when he was in Uni.”

“But being the Original Holmes Genius, you anticipated the possibility and had a duplicate made,” Molly wondered at the older woman. “Brilliant!”

“Triplicate, actually,” Mr Holmes supplied with a wink. “The third is locked away in an undisclosed location that I am afraid even you will never find.”

Molly laughed and took a sip of tea before turning her attention to the album. The first few pages were of Sherlock as a young teen, a miniature version of the man he would grow up to become, complete with surly scowl.

But then the next page made her choke on her tea.

“Oh my god!” She exclaimed. “Is that….oh my god!”

Mrs Holmes tsked. “Yes, this was a photo he has been desperately trying to erase from existence for decades. Mycroft took particular pleasure in keeping it safe, even has a portrait of it hanging in his home, behind bulletproof glass. For all his high and mighty ways, he is very much an older brother.”

Molly fumbled for her phone. “Would it be okay, can I take a snap of it? I need something to laugh at every time he calls asking me to stay after my shift is over.”

Mrs Holmes grinned cheekily and handed her the album. While Molly tried to get just the right angle, she missed the look the older Holmes’ exchanged.

_He calls?_ Mrs Holmes mouthed.

Mr Holmes just shrugged, his eyes twinkling with a secret.

oOo

**Four Weeks Later**

Rosie giggled in delight as Molly bopped around, singing nonsense, swooping Rosie down every once in a while to make the little girl shriek excitedly.

“Tea, Molly?“ John called from the kitchen.

"Would be great, thanks. How about for little miss here?” She propped Rosie on her hip and joined John in the kicthen.

“Tya, tya!” Rosie declared, making grabby hands at the sippy cup John had ready on the counter.

John gave it to her and she latched on, guzzling it down greedily. He winked at Molly. “Milk with a dash of tea, makes her happy to be drinking a big girl drink.”

Molly laughed and hugged her goddaughter closer, the little girl leaning her head against her sweetly.

From her bag, her phone started ringing. “That’s probably Sherlock, begging off dinner.” She started to reach for it, but John waved her off.

“I’ll get it.”

“Thanks,” Molly said and walked over to the table. Rosie was getting heavier by the day.

“Oh my god!” John burst out into laughter, staring at her buzzing phone, dropping it and fumbling to catch it.

Rosie popped the cup out of her mouth and pointed at him. “Daddy, silly!”

John shook his head in disbelief and held out the screen for Rosie to see.

Molly bit her lip to hide her smile. She truly hadn’t meant for anyone else to see it, but too late now. The photo of Sherlock appeared dead centre, unmistakably him. But instead of the styled curls they all knew, the sides of his head had been shaved down and the remaining hair on top had brushed straight and gelled into a mohawk.

A  _mohawk_.

Tack on the nose and eyebrow piercings, he looked like someone out of an 90s cult film.

The phone rang out as Rosie giggled and reached for it, recognizing her uncle in all his dated glory.

“Where did you find that?” John managed to spit out between breaths of laughter.

Molly just smiled and redialled Sherlock. “I have my ways.”

“Can you send it to me? Consider it my Christmas and Birthday gifts for the rest of my life,” he begged, eyes wide.

She rolled her eyes just as the phone connected. “Hi Sherlock… No, nothing’s wrong, just couldn’t get to my phone in time…Yes, we are all here and waiting for you… Oh, extra egg rolls would be nice… Okay, see you soon.” She paused and glanced at John nervously. “Sherlock, John is here and…okay okay,” she turned her head away, a blush staining her cheeks, “I love you, too. Bye.”

John raised his eyebrows. “So… things are going well?”

Molly smiled softly and nudged Rosie to drinking the last of her milk. “Very.”

“I’m happy for you. Both of you,” he said, his smile bittersweet. Then he clapped his hands, rubbing them together gleefully. “Now, about that photo.”

****

For months, Sherlock couldn’t figure out for the life of him why his friends were bursting into laughter whenever he called.

Even Sally Donovan had lost it in the background when he phoned Lestrade to get into a crime scene.

It all came together, though, when they received an early engagement gift from Mycroft.

_To Molly,_ the tag read.  _To complement the photograph in your mobile_.

She ripped the paper off and nearly screamed in delight. From behind a thick plate of plexi-glass, a full body version of the Mohawk Sherlock stared back at her, complete with Hammer pants and shirtless chest but for a gold chain around his neck.

“It was for a case!” Sherlock shouted, his face flaming red in embarrassment. He suddenly realised why everyone had been laughing at his calls lately and he stormed out of the room.

It took Molly several hours to convince him to forgive her (not that she was complaining at all). But the photo stayed, she declared, breathless and sated, curled up against his side in their bed. At least, the one Mycroft had given them. Just for her eyes only, she promised.

Sherlock conceded, kissing her deeply. But as she drifted off to sleep, he began plotting the demise of all of his friends….er, his friends’ phones.


End file.
